


Officer Hottie & the Redneck Baker

by ArcticLucie



Series: An Officer & A Baker [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Anal Play, Brownies, Caramel, Cupcakes, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Food Kink, Implied Slash, M/M, Nude baking, Rickyl, Shameless Smut, Wingman!Merle, Wingman!Shane, bottom!daryl, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick's the new cop in town; Daryl owns the local bakery; everybody likes cupcakes.</p><p>Now with chocolate covered smut!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strawberry & Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> In one of my other fics I wrote about how cute Judith would be eating a cupcake. Then I got to thinking about how HOT it would be if Rick ate one. And this happened. Enjoy!
> 
> Not beta'ed or proofread too carefully...

Rick had only been in town a week before he worked his first shift for the sheriff's department. He was ecstatic that Shane had been assigned as his partner. They had been friends for years, and it was his constant pestering that finally convinced Rick to move back to the small town life they knew as children. 

_It's how we grew up, man. Don'cha want that for Carl 'n Judy? Lori would've,_ Shane would say every time they talked. All he could respond with was a nod and a sigh. He was already kicking himself for not listening to his oldest friend sooner.

The schedule lined up so that his first shift was an overnight shift. Every team had to take a few a month since the force was small. That was the only down side of the move that he'd found so far. At least it was a quiet shift, which he was grateful for, and Shane told him that was normal for a Sunday night. 

It was a little after four a.m. when they received their first anything. He had been so bored after their conversation naturally tapered off that he didn't even care that it was a routine traffic stop. If he knew anything about traffic stops it was that they all had the potential to be dangerous and were usually anything but routine.

As soon as the motorcycle went flying by ten miles over the speed limit, Rick flipped the lights and siren while Shane punched the gas and hauled ass to catch the driver. A quarter of a mile down the road, the bike pulled onto the shoulder and stopped. 

"You can take this one, _partner_ ," Shane smirked, something sinister concealed in his eyes.

"What am I gettin' into here?" Rick asked apprehensively. 

"You'll be fine. Jus' remember that his bark is bigger than his bite," Shane chuckled.

"Good to know your poker face is still shit, Shane," Rick grumbled as he got out of the cruiser and unintentionally slammed the door. 

He slowly approached the motorcycle, the spotlight from the car illuminating the man atop the beast. The back of his leather vest was inlayed with beautiful angel wings but what caught Rick's attention were the lean, expert-cut biceps on full display. The sight was enough to send a sharp twinge of something deep into Rick's gut. The scraggly mop of hair on the man's head blowing in the warm breeze did nothing to help. 

"Mornin', license and registration, please," Rick said in his long since perfected cop voice.

The man leveled him with a hard glare, his dimly lit blue eyes narrow as they studied each other for a moment in the pale yellow light of a nearby street lamp, the setting moon, and the light from the cruiser. The man held up his info and rolled his eyes away. And with that, the something twisting in Rick's gut burst like a supernova into full blown want.

Rick read the name on his license and pointedly ignored the warmth of arousal flowing through his body. He hoped the flush creeping up his cheeks would be attributed to the sweltering Georgia summer night, which was a stark contrast to the cool a/c of the cruiser. "You know how fast you were goin' back there, uh, Mr. Dixon?" 

"Ya must be the new guy," Daryl gruffly muttered in reply.

"Why's that?" Rick asked curiously, his mind momentarily short-circuiting when those eyes fluttered back to his.

"'Cause everybody 'round here knows that Mr. Dixon was my _asshole_ father," he said with heavy contempt that Rick sensed wasn't directed at him.

"First shift, actually. Just moved up from Atlanta," Rick said cordially as he ran a hand over the scruffy beginnings of a beard on his chin.

"Don't need your life story. Just gimme my damn ticket, I'm fuckin' late!" Daryl spat after noticing the wedding ring on _Officer Grimes'_ hand. It figured. The first hot guy he'd seen come through his damn town in years was fucking married.

Rick, noticing the man's change in demeanor, went on the defensive, "If ya hadn't been speedin', you'd probably already be where you were goin' instead o' waitin' for a ticket," he scolded. 

Daryl scoffed in reply as he shook his head in a combination of annoyance and frustration. Merle came home late—early—and woke him up an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He had just gotten back to sleep when it started blaring and he hit the snooze button one too many times. 

Now, he was sitting on the side of the road when he should be at the bakery prepping for the morning rush while he waited for Officer Hottie to write him a ticket so he could carry on with his life and figure out a way to forget how he wanted nothing more in said boring life than for this cop to bend him over his bike and fuck him six ways to Sunday. 

"Sit tight, gotta run these," Rick said, strolling back to the car. He opened his door and slid in, the cool air partially relieving the burn of his cheeks. "Run these," he said, holding out Daryl's license and vehicle registration to Shane.

"Nah, he's good, man. Jus' make 'im sweat a bit. His brother's the rowdy one. Merle, he likes his bar fights, but he's mostly harmless. Will Dixon, their dad, now he was the asshole. Everybody was glad when he went belly up. The two brothers threw a party afterward."

"That bad?"

"Worse. They made it out okay, though. Both of 'em. Merle owns the local garage. He yammers on 'bout us 'pigs' all the time, but I think he just gets kicks outta seein' how far he can push people. Daryl here, he owns the bakery. Best damn cupcakes in the state if ya ask me. Some of his flavors sound odd, but I swear, brother, they'll change your life!"

"Wouldn't peg him as a baker," Rick mused out loud.

"Wasn't it you who always told me not ta judge a book by its cover?" Shane smiled wide. "Anyway, his Backwater Bonanza will ruin you for life. He can't sell it 'cause it's got so much booze in it, and I doubt the health department would give a liquor license to a bakery, but he makes them for friends and special occasions."

"So, what? Ya wanna let him off?" Rick asked. 

"Usually do. He's gotta go open the bakery. He ain't a chronic speeder or nothin'. Prolly jus' havin' a bad mornin'. I would too if I had ta wake up to Merle everyday," Shane snickered.

Rick smirked and got back out of the car. He cleared his throat and walked up to the motorcycle, the sound of his boots thudding on the pavement were louder than they should've been. Or was that his heart beat? 

"We're gonna let ya off with a warnin' today. Just make sure to watch your speed next time," Rick said, handing Daryl back his license.

Daryl rolled his eyes as he took them back, careful not to touch the officer's fingers in the process. That just would've been too damn much. "And my brother says I don't have charm," he huffed sarcastically.

"Charm's overrate," Rick said smoothly as they studied each other for another brief moment. "Be seein' ya," he smiled, almost predatory-like, before tipping his hat and walking away.

*****

Getting pulled over was surprisingly the highlight of Daryl's morning. He knew it was because of Officer Hottie, but he wasn't about to go falling for a married man, even if he thought the cop was flirting with him. He probably wasn't. Didn't matter, he had no time to worry about that when everything around him started falling apart. 

When he got to the bakery, Maggie had beaten him there. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem, but she had forgotten her keys and was just standing there waiting for him impatiently. So not only was he late getting started with his usual duties, but so was she.

Being a Monday, the morning rush was exceptionally brutal. Their intern, Amy, had burnt a whole tray of pigs-in-a-blanket, the custard machine went on the fritz so they were having to stuff eclairs and donuts by hand, and then he got a rush order on four dozen cupcakes that he had to get started on almost immediately. 

All the while, the only thing he could concentrate on were dreamy blue eyes glittering in the moon light. And the fact that his future husband was already fucking married....

 _Fuck my life!_ was his mantra for the day. Maggie had to keep reminding him not to say it out loud when the kids started filtering in after school. Like he really needed more shit on today of all days: on the worst Monday of his life. At this point, it could only get better...he hoped.

He was bringing out a batch of finished cupcakes he made for a bachelor party to show Maggie before he boxed them up when she started in on him again. 

"Ya need to watch your language around the kids, Dare," she chided.

"Ya ain't never cared about my language before. You're just pissed 'cause I won't hire Glenn," he called her out.

"All I'm asking is that ya just give 'im a chance. We really need the money for the weddin'," Maggie whined, lips going pouty; eyes big, bright, and puppy dog like. 

"He's already got a job, ain't that enough?" Daryl asked like the answer should be an obvious 'yes'.

"I'm only gettin' married once Dixon, and if ya don't want me takin' my business elsewhere for my desserts, ya better hire Glenn," she threatened. 

Daryl snorted out a sarcastic laugh. "Ya wanna go to Woodbury for your desserts? Fine by me!"

"Daryl, you are my oldest friend, my business partner, and my 'maid of honor'! Now...you're gonna hire my fiancé to take over the deliveries or I'm gonna kick your ass!" she whispered harshly.

It was because of his heated conversation with Maggie that Daryl missed the cop from early that morning walking in with his young son and a squawking baby girl on his hip. 

As soon as Rick picked up Carl from school, he asked if he wanted to go grab a cupcake so they could check out the local bakery. He said 'yes' because what kid in their right mind would say 'no' to sugar? With that, the three Grimes set out for The Backwoods Bakery on Main Street.

Rick had been to a few bakeries in Atlanta, but this place was nothing like any of them. The decor was...well, it was like being outside. The walls were painted with trees to make it look like you were out in the woods and the ceiling looked to be lined with real leaves mirroring a forest canopy. There was even a few deer painted into the background.

The heavy oak tables were lacquered and shiny, but rustic with knots and the wood grain visible through the clear coat. There was a water feature in one corner mimicking a rolling brook, and he could hear bird calls in the background coming from well hidden speakers. The employees were wearing camouflage shirts and khaki cargo pants. 

Rick would've noticed all that if it hadn't been for a familiar set of biceps behind the counter that had captured his attention immediately upon entering. He hurried the kids to a table near the water feature as he tried not to read into the argument the baker and the woman beside him were having. 

"Go get a cupcake for you and Judith," Rick said to Carl as he fished out his wallet and handed his son two dollars. He didn't trust his mouth to behave in front of the children if he had to talk to Daryl again. He knew he'd either make a fool of himself or say something inappropriate. 

"Awesome!" Carl said, eyes going wide at the idea of doing something adult. He walked up to the counter and asked for two vanilla cupcakes as he placed the money on the counter.

Maggie gave him a cursory glance as she smiled slightly and took his money. Daryl—brain still heavily invested in his argument with Maggie—absentmindedly handed him two of the cupcakes meant for the bachelor party. 

Rick watched from afar at the exchange, a bit disappointed that neither of the bakers stopped their bickering to help his kid. And more so that Daryl hadn't even noticed him walk in. Geez, he was worse than a sex-starved teenager with a crush!

"Look dad! They have lips on them!" Carl exclaimed loudly when he reached the table.

It was at that precise moment that a lull in Daryl's conversation with Maggie allowed him to hear the kid, and he froze in horror at the realization of what he'd just done. He looked over expecting to see an outraged parent. And that's exactly what he saw, but what he had not expected was for that outraged parent to be Officer Hottie.

Rick's eyes went wide as he looked down at the _very_ inappropriate 'lips' that decorated his childrens' cupcakes. He snatched them from Carl's hands, and without thinking, bit into the frosting to remove the tiny labias made of pick fondant that covered the tops. 

If his brain hadn't been in meltdown mode over his son's wounded virtue, he might've been embarrassed that everyone was staring at him while he smacked his lips noisily to remove the sweet tasting evidence smudged on them.

And if Daryl hadn't been feeling completely humiliated and downright ashamed, he would've thought that that was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. 

No, he still managed to think that.

Rick threw the cupcakes on the table as if they had burned a hole right through his fingers, snatched up Judith, and rushed her and Carl out of the bakery without a look to anyone, especially Daryl, as he muttered to his pouting son that they'd get some from the store.

Daryl had no idea what to do. Part of him was pissed because his cupcakes were better than the ones you get at the store, but then again, he had just given the man's child two with vulgar images on them. He doubted they sold those at the store.

He thought about running after him to apologize. But what was he going to say? _'Sorry I gave your kids cupcakes with vaginas on them, Officer I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out.'_ He didn't figure that would go over too well.

"Was that the new cop in town?" Beth asked, as she came scampering in for her shift. "He nearly ran me over. He didn't look that good, either. Did ya'll give 'im some of the Backwater Bonanza or somethin'?"

"Worse! Daryl just gave his son some of these," Maggie answered holding up the pan of cupcakes in question.

"Oh my God!" Beth gasped, her blue eyes wide in shock as she took in the decorations.

"Fuck! My bike is so gettin' towed!" Daryl bemoaned, hanging his head in defeat as he hid his face behind his sugar-coated hands.

"I'm sure it's nothin'. Rick's a good guy. Just tell 'im it was an honest mistake," Amy chimed in from the back.

All three looked at each other with confusion then back to her suspiciously. "How do ya know that?" Maggie asked, raising a brow.

"My sister's dating his best friend Shane." 

"Officer Walsh?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah. Apparently, they've known each other for years. His wife died like last year or something. I think Andrea said it was during childbirth. Anyway, Shane's been pestering him to move here for awhile now, and he finally gave in," she answered with a carefree shrug. "I've met him a few times. He seems nice, laid back."

"Poor thing," Maggie lamented. "Must be hard lookin' at his daughter everyday knowing she's the reason his wife's dead."

"Nah...he don't look at her like that," Daryl interjected. "He looks at her like his wife gave her life so she could live and he's gonna cherish her even more for it. It's gonna be hell when she starts datin'."

The three girls shared a look before zeroing in on him with their scrutinizing gazes.

"What? Just an observation," Daryl insisted. When their gazes intensified, he started to sweat. "Would ya stop lookin' at me like that! Get back ta work!" he ordered. When they just stood there staring, he groaned. "Christ, it's nothin', alright? I already made two very bad impressions on him anyway." 

"He's going to be at Michonne's party Friday. At least that's what I heard," Amy added. "I'll see if I can find out what his favorite flavor is and you can make him a special batch of something as an apology."

"I guess I could do that...if it keeps my bike outta impound," Daryl sighed. He could make amends. He should. The guy was a cop and he knew better than most how much easier life was when you were on friendly terms with the police. 

And damn was he hot! 

And single? 

And maybe he had been flirting.

And he blew it...again....

*****

The rest of Rick's week was uneventful. He drove by the bakery a few times but was way too nervous to even think about stopping or going back in. Carl had kept asking for real cupcakes, even though he hadn't had a chance to taste Daryl's, but they both knew the ones from the store were like cardboard in comparison.

The aromas inside The Backwoods Bakery were enough to make anyone's mouth water, so he couldn't blame his son for wanting to experience the delicacies that were created there. He promised himself that as soon as he worked up his nerve, he'd take them back. 

Every time Rick thought of the Redneck Baker—which was admittedly often—he could taste the remnants of strawberry and vanilla frosting on his tongue. He wondered what those flavors would taste like on Daryl's tongue. Then he'd wonder what he'd taste like without them covering his own natural flavor, and somehow that was more enticing a thought.

He knew dating as a single dad was going to be a pain in the ass. What he hadn't counted on was that having a crush was going to be just as bad. 

Pulling a man over for speeding wasn't exactly the best ice breaker, and if he hadn't been watching Daryl so closely at the bakery, he would've convinced himself that the mixup with the cupcakes was done intentionally to run him off. It certainly worked out that way.

He was dead set on drowning his pining away in the bottom of a bottle at Michonne's party when Friday night rolled around. Shane probably would've dragged him along if he hadn't agreed to go on his own, but he knew it would be good to get to know the people he had sworn to protect. 

He overheard someone saying Daryl was going to be there. That information both terrified and excited him, but he refused to get his hopes up if he didn't show. It wasn't like he'd know what to say if he did. Regardless, he kept one eye on the door all evening.

An hour after the party started, Andrea found the baker pacing out in the driveway when she got back from a beer run. She ushered him into the backyard where everyone was hanging out, drinking, and talking. "Hey ya'll, look who I found!" she yelled to the crowd.

"Hey, Daryl!" everyone replied.

"Those cupcakes for me?" Michonne smiled expectantly as she stalked up to him.

Daryl had two boxes from the bakery in his hands. "These ones are for you," he said, handing her the box full of his Backwater Bonanza cupcakes. The box was practically empty before it left his hands.

"And those?" Andrea asked curiously. 

Daryl shrunk a little under the increasingly hungry looks he was getting. He scanned the crowd, trying to keep his face free of disappointment when he didn't spot Office Hottie. "Ain't for ya'll, so just go on back ta your booze, ya alchies!" he warned, clenching the box protectively.

Maggie came up with a beer for him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. She leaned in and whispered, "He's in the house callin' his kids. Should be back out soon."

He tried his best not to smile, but he felt the corners of his mouth quirk up anyway in nervous anticipation. Shit, he had it bad!

"Alisha?" Rick called out from the doorway. Daryl turned around and saw a very handsy, very drunk Tara with her hand under Rick's shirt. Jealousy made his blood run cold even though he knew she was a lesbian. "She keeps calling me Alisha! Is there even an Alisha here?" Rick shouted, "Think we need ta cut her off."

That's when their eyes met and Daryl's vision was whittled down to two brilliant points of blue. He was frozen in place as he watched Glenn take Tara inside. Rick gladly handed her off and headed straight for him.

"Think he likes ya," Maggie teased in his ear before following Glenn and Tara inside, but the words barely registered. 

"I made these for ya," Daryl somehow managed to spit out, shoving the box into Rick's chest. "A peace offerin' for, uh, the mishap at the bakery. They're strawberry shortcake cupcakes. One of my favorites." _And Amy said you liked strawberry._

"No problem, been awhile since I ate any pussy," Rick replied. He hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud, but everyone hooted and hollered. If he hadn't already been flushed from the alcohol, that would've done it for sure. "Yours tasted amazin', by the way...the, uh, cupcakes, I mean. Well, the icing...didn't actually taste the cake part." 

Daryl smirked and took back the green camo box he had given him. He opened the top so Rick could reach in a grab a cupcake. He watched as his lithe fingers delicately peeled down the paper wrapper and he wondered what batter would taste like being licked off them. 

Rick sank his teeth into the cloyingly sweet dessert with a hum that made Daryl's mouth water and his insides ache. He swallowed hard as Rick's tongue methodically ran over the vanilla frosting clinging to his lower lip. And he wondered what _that_ tasted like.

However, it was the red strawberry filling staining the corner of the cop's mouth that had Daryl the most entranced. 

Neither realized everyone had quieted down as they watched the scene unfold, too focused on each other, until Shane broke the silence.

"Would ya just kiss 'im already, Rick? Been even longer since ya ate any cock," a very drunk Shane helpfully added. They all turned to Shane for an explanation. "Don't look at me, man. He had a phase in college."

"It wasn't a phase, ya ass!" Rick hollered back. 

Before he could say anything else, there was a strong hand fisted in his shirt and soft lips pressed gingerly against his. But that just wasn't going to work for him because he needed more. His free hand flew up to cup the back of Daryl's neck to pull him closer as their lips parted. 

Then, all there was was strawberry, vanilla, Officer Hottie and the Redneck Baker. And he wondered why no one had ever thought of that deliriously delicious combination before because it was the single best thing he'd ever tasted in his life. If he could've bottled it, they would've been gazillionaires.

Of course, he'd soon find out that the flavors were even better the morning after. Right before he reminded himself to befriend the local dentist.


	2. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl share a cupcake, act like idiots, then get their shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at keeping the plot out of pwp's. Example: this chapter. I was gonna hold off on posting this until I had the smutty chapter done, but why? Enjoy!

The morning after Michonne's party, Rick woke up in one of her spare rooms with a naked Daryl curled up on his chest. The baker—used to ridiculously early mornings—was already awake and tracing random patterns over the sparse hair on his chest. His head was slightly thudding from the alcohol, but he had had a lot worse. 

He stretched and reached for the almost empty box of cupcakes on the side table. There had been a dozen to start with, but there was only one left. Him and Daryl hadn't eaten that many so he reminded himself to have a talking to to the party goers about the dangers of stealing such heavenly morsels from a cop.

Rick ran a finger over the vanilla icing and scooped some up. He watched hungrily as he held the frosting-covered digit to Daryl's lips and shuddered when the tip of his tongue—still stained bright red from the strawberry filling the night before—flicked out of his mouth to lick it clean. Daryl looked up at him from under his lashes as he took the whole finger into his mouth, all the way up to the palm, sucking slightly, before slowly pulling back and releasing it with a slight 'pop'.

And if there had been a more erotic thing on Earth, Rick didn't know it. He would later.

Officer Hottie moved the cupcake to Daryl's mouth and he aggressively bit into it, counting on the frosting to make a mess of his face. Rick chuckled low and leaned down to suck the sugary cream off the tip of his nose before cleaning the rest of it off his face with a series of open mouth kisses. 

Daryl took the cupcake from his hand and held it up for Rick to take a bite, him doing the same thing: diving into the cupcake with a hearty hum. They slowly repeated the process until there was nothing left of the cupcake but its sad, empty wrapper.

It was the best breakfast-in-bed that Rick had ever had. 

He was itching for an even more delicious treat for dessert, but after a quick trip to the bathroom, he padded back to an empty bed and a heavy heart. 

Daryl had just up and vanished. No note, no number, no nothing. Rick wasn't one for one-night stands, but maybe that's all it had been to Daryl. And the thought burned worse than the shots of Jack he downed the night before.

He hurried out of the house himself—not wanting to wake the other guests passed out everywhere because he would surely have to explain where Daryl went—and headed to pick up the kids from the Greene farm. Beth had been kind enough to babysit for the night. 

He spent the rest of the weekend sulking about wracking his brain as to what he could've done to chase the baker off so fast. Worst part was that he knew he'd never be able to look at a cupcake the same way again. 

Shane had been right, Daryl's sweet little confections had ruined him for life.

*****

Daryl hated to rush out without saying goodbye, but Merle called with a garage emergency and he had to bolt. He hoped Rick wouldn't be pissed, but it wasn't like they had had time to talk about anything like dates or the future or what to wear at their wedding—he didn't think Rick would go for camo.

He searched for a piece of paper to leave a note or something but came up empty. He shrugged it off as he left. The town was small, Rick knew where he worked, and he was sure someone would slip him his number. 

When he got to Merle's garage, he pulled around back. Merle came busted out the door just as he swung his leg over his bike. His brother stormed over to him and fisted his meaty hands into his leather vest. Merle was breathing hard, his face set in stone, as he scowled at his younger brother.

"The fuck, man?! Le'go o' me!" Daryl snarled as he clawed at Merle's hands.

"Ya finally find yerself a man and I'm the last person in the whole damn town ta know about it?" Merle bellowed as he let go of Daryl with a hard shove. "A cop, no less?!"

"Tha's yer big emergency? Ya wanted ta grill me on my love life?" Daryl yelled. "Yeah, he's a cop. Gotta problem with that, asshole?"

"Ya weren't still in bed with 'im was ya?" Merle asked, looking almost regretful. As much as Merle could anyway.

"Did ya have an emergency or not, Merle?" Daryl sighed tiredly. Maybe he could head back to Michonne's before Rick left. 

"Yeah, yer damn delivery van in fact, Darlina! Thought you could use my truck for the day while I take care of it. Amy's inside waitin' for ya," Merle explained.

"Shit!"

"We ain't done talkin' about this!" Merle insisted as he turned back towards the garage.

Daryl pulled out his phone and dialed the bakery as he followed Merle inside. A haggard sounding Carol picked up on the fifth ring. "Backwoods Bakery, this is Carol. How can I help you?" 

"It's Dare. Ya sound like hell, what's goin' on?"

"We've been tellin' ya we need someone else for deliveries, Daryl!" she lectured. "I'm swamped here, I need Amy back."

"Alright, we're on our way," he said motioning for Amy to follow him. Merle tossed him the keys to his truck and they set out for the bakery.

When they arrived, the place was like a zoo. That was pretty typical for a Saturday morning, but they had a large number of deliveries that took a big chunk out of their manpower. Reluctantly, Daryl pulled out his phone once more and called up Glenn.

"Ya bes' not be hungover, Rhee. If ya want the job, ya started five minutes ago. And yer already late!"

"Daryl?" Glenn asked with a sleepy rasp.

"Ya got five minutes ta get here or yer fired before ya start," he muttered before hanging up.

After a few hours at the bakery and a couple of runs with Glenn, Daryl headed back to the garage to help Merle with the van. They worked mostly in silence for awhile aside from a few grunts and the mention of the odd tool or engine part.

"Ya gonna tell me about 'im or not?" Merle finally huffed.

"He's a cop with two kids and likes strawberries. 'S pretty much all I know so far," Daryl replied. That wasn't quite true. He knew his eyes had stars hung in them, his smile was like a perfect sunset, his fingers tasted like paradise, and his lips were pure bliss when they were pressed against his. But he wasn't going to tell Merle that.

"When the fuck do I get ta meet 'im? Or do I have to figure out a way ta do that on my own, too?"

"Don't have his number yet and I've only known 'im a week. Don't need ya scarin' him off. Ya ain't exactly Ms. Congeniality," Daryl snickered. 

"Guess I could go get myself arrested," Merle suggested.

"Shuddup! I've already made enough bad impressions on the man. Don't need ta go pressin' my luck."

*****

Merle was never one to listen to reason. After three days of watching Daryl sulk around with no word from the cop, he decided to take things into his own hands. Daryl was the only family he had, and after their shitty childhood he deserved something good in his life. Even it was a piggy.

He was going to check the guy out to make sure he was good enough for his baby brother or run him off so Daryl could find someone better. On his lunch break on Tuesday, he drove his truck along the stretch of road notorious for speed traps and hit the gas. 

Tara had told him Rick and Shane would be camped out there at the time when she brought a squad car in for repair, and it only took two passes before he saw lights flashing in the rearview. He grinned proudly to himself as he pulled onto the shoulder.

Shane let out a low laugh when their cruiser came to a stop behind the old pickup they pulled over. He looked at Rick and smiled wide.

"What?" Rick asked apprehensively.

"Think this one's for you," he smirked.

"Seriously Shane, ya really need to work on your poker face." 

Rick sighed as he stepped out of the car. He wasn't in the mood for games. The last three days had sucked. Shane had given him Daryl's number but he hadn't worked up the courage to text or call him or even drive by the damn bakery. He wasted a lot of gas bypassing Main Street. 

And yes, he was well aware that he was acting like a damn coward about it, but it wasn't like Daryl made any sort of effort to contact him.

What exactly was he supposed to say to him anyway? _I really need some more of your yummy cupcakes. And if ya could throw in a side of your cock, that'd be great!_

He shook off the thought as he approached the vehicle. The window was rolled down and a rough looking man fixed him with a gnarly glare. Rick had been a cop for most of his adult life. He was used to hardasses, and he was getting used to the skeptical glances he'd been receiving from being the new guy in town. But for some reason, this felt different.

"You the guy ever'body's callin' Officer Hottie?" the man asked before Rick could ask for his license and registration. 

Rick blushed, "I suppose that would be me, yes," he replied. He didn't know where he got that moniker from, but he had a bad feeling that he was stuck with it.

"How long ya been a li'l 'piggy'?" the man asked, following it up with a few oinks for good measure.

Then it hit him, this guy had to be Merle. 

And that's when he realized that this wasn't a simple traffic stop; it was an interrogation, and he was on the wrong side of the table.

"Fourteen years just about," he simply stated. He didn't need to be told Merle wasn't big on chitchat.

"What happened to yer wife?"

"Died givin' birth to our daughter a little over a year ago."

Merle's face softened a bit at that. "Hmm, so ya ain't queer, then?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Like both."

"Like my brother?"

Rick was mostly unsuccessful at containing the smile the mention of Daryl sent spiraling across his face. He looked down and then back to the cruiser before looking Merle in the eye and nodding. 

"Then why the hell ain't ya called him yet?" Merle hissed.

Rick supposed that was Merle giving him his blessing. "Why the hell hasn't he called me yet? I know he's got my number," he countered defensively. "Plus, I didn't know he wanted me to!"

"The pair o' ya'll are idiots!" Merle spat before putting his truck in gear and peeling back onto the road. 

Rick could only stare after him as he watched the tailgate shrink into nothingness, some of the dust the truck kicked up settling, the rest lost to the wind. Thankfully Shane's honking brought him out of his trance. He hopped back in the car and they went back to work.

*****

Daryl had two mornings off a week, two days in which he got to sleep in past sun rise. One of those days was Thursday, which it just happened to be. Because of this, he was royally pissed off when a drunk Merle came stumbling into his room at 3:30 a.m.

"Git up, Darlina. Time ta go ta work. Gotta make us some *hiccup* dooough... _nuts_ ," Merle slurred wiggling his eye brows suggestively with the last word. 

"I don't go in till later. Ya know that Merle!" he grumbled in reply.

"Gotta go pas' the sssspeed trap. Osifer Hottie's waitin'!" he giggled. "He's workin', tha' li'l p-p-oinker. Be jus' like yer firs' date, HA!"

Daryl knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep now. His internal clock was hard to reset after a few years of getting up at 3:30 to go to the bakery every morning. _Might as well go and help out,_ he thought. 

And if he just happened to be speeding, he could afford the ticket. 

***** 

Rick heard the bike before it went whizzing by, and he didn't even bother hiding his grin. 

"Ya'll gotta stop meetin' like this," Shane teased as he took off after Daryl.

"Yeah, like ya didn't have anything ta do with all this," Rick pointed out as they pulled onto the shoulder.

"Jus' make it quick, will ya? Won't even turn on the spot light," he winked.

Rick got out and walked up to the bike, Daryl's biceps making his mouth water something fierce in nothing but the moon light. "Didn't leave me your number," he said when he approached.

Daryl scowled at him, those deep blue eyes like a punch to his gut expelling the breath from his lungs. How he managed to steal all the oxygen from the atmosphere, Rick would never know. 

"Ya know where I work," the baker scoffed.

"And ya know where _I_ work," Rick bit back.

"Ya think I'm stupid enough ta speed by ya twice?"

Rick grabbed him by the hair, snapping his head back, and smashed their lips together. There was nothing sweet about it, no sugar just heat and Daryl. The baker's deft hands flew around to knead his ass, pulling and tugging until Rick was practically straddling his thigh. And if he hadn't been on duty, he would've been straddling more than that.

Rick thought he tasted just as good without strawberries and vanilla. He was sweet enough alone, all spice and man and musk and sex. He was hopelessly lost in the dizzying concoction of flavors until a quick flash of blue and red had him pulling back, his lips momentarily taking Daryl's bottom one with him as he sucked it gently.

Daryl cleared his throat and gruffly laughed. "Gotta work late tonight. Givin' some baking lessons to some kids about four. Should bring yours in. They ain't had my cupcakes yet."

"Might just do that," Rick replied. He tugged Daryl's head back again a little more tenderly and planted a scorching kissed on his chapped lips. When he pulled away this time, Daryl's bottom lip was caught between his teeth. One last nibble and he released him. "Be seein' ya," he drawled.

Daryl growled an affirmative and pinched his ass before letting him go. He watched Rick walk back to the cruiser over his shoulder before revving the engine and taking off. The warm Georgia breeze blowing in his face wasn't enough to cool his singed cheeks.

That was fine because he spent the rest of the day with a bounce in his step, a stupid fucking grin on his face, and the memory of Rick's body pressed against his. On more than one occasion he found himself counting the seconds till four o'clock came around. 

Naturally, he had been watching the door all afternoon wondering when Rick would walk in. He finally arrived with his kids around 3:45 and it took every bit of self-restraint Daryl could summon to keep from dragging him into the back and fucking him up against his prep table. He was still reeling from their morning kiss. 

So, instead of rushing up to him, throwing him over his shoulder, and whisking him away, he let Rick come to him. Just as well, he did have his kids with him for Christ's sake! 

"Hey Daryl, this is my son Carl and my daughter Judith. Carl, this is Daryl. This is his bakery," Rick introduced them.

"That's so cool! Do you get to eat all the cupcakes you want? Do we get to eat something this time, dad?" Carl groaned.

"Today, I'm gonna show ya how to make a batch. Then, ya can eat yours," Daryl replied. "And, uh, maybe next time ya come in ya'll can try one of mine."

"Can I lick the bowl? Mom always let me lick the bowl," he said, eyes bright with excitement.

Daryl flashed Rick a quick look of apprehension. He'd never dated anyone with kids, let alone one who was widowed. But Rick's kind smile put him at ease. "'Course, ya can. That's the best part. Now, go grab a seat. Beth's gonna bring ya your ingredients." 

The class of about eight kids and their parents gathered around a few tables in the back. Daryl went step by step through a recipe for simple vanilla cupcakes as the children followed along. Him and Rick would share heated looks occasionally, but Daryl tried his best to concentrate on the children.

They finished the batter and poured them into pans for baking. Then, all the kids proceeded to lick the bowls. Daryl watched as Rick trailed his finger along the inside of Carl's and gave him with a lascivious grin before licking it off. With that, the memory of how vanilla frosting tasted on that finger came rushing back. And so went all the blood to his cock. 

Luckily, he was able to excuse himself to the back to pop the cupcakes in the oven. He had to take a few deep breaths to quell the hard-on straining against his zipper. That became damn near impossible when he got a text from Rick.

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: I wanna roll u in sugar then lick it off. :p_

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: Y'know, I give private lessons...4 a small fee.

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: I'll b sure 2 write u a blank check._

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: Think this is the point where I'm suppose 2 ask if ur a cop...

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: Trying 2 tell me u want me 2 cuff u?_

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: Really shouldn't b doing this right now....

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: When can I taste u again?_

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: ASAP! When can u ditch the little ones?

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: Shit, didn't mean that in a bad way. They're cute. So r u. 

Daryl waited impatiently for Rick to respond, but it took a few minutes this time. He resisted the urge to peek out the door and check to make sure he didn't offend him with the bit about getting rid of his kids in favor of getting laid. Just as he was about to give in, his phone beeped.

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: About 8?_

[Msg to Officer Hottie]: Meet u here?

_[Msg from Officer Hottie]: After I ditch the kids. ;p_

Rick was expecting for Daryl to come back out from the back after they were done texting, but he didn't. All sorts of dirty scenarios were playing in his mind about what he was doing back there as he tried to mingle with the other adults. It was a challenge. 

As soon as the cupcakes were done Daryl brought them out to cool before the children could decorated them. They each got to eat one and take the rest home. Rick felt kind of bad filling the kids up on sugar before taking them to Lori's parents for a two-day weekend that had just turned into three. 

But his guilt melted away when Judy bit into hers. Her eyes went wide and her arms starting flapping happily as she bounced on his lap. Rick didn't know what was hotter, the way Daryl had looked at him when he licked his finger earlier or the way he was watching Judith fondly as she ate. 

By the time she was done, both her and Rick were soon a sticky mess. He managed to get her cleaned up and got them out of the bakery and on the road to grandma's with one last flirty smile to Daryl. By the time he dropped them off, he had just enough time to run by the house and grab a shower. He broke the speed limit on the way back, but he figured it was a high risk, high reward situation and chanced it.

The bakery was dark when he pulled up. The sun hadn't set yet, but the sign was off and the lights were out making it hard to see inside. For a brief moment, he thought Daryl had forgotten. Or maybe he left to shower as well. He pulled out his phone and shot off a text.

[Msg to Redneck Baker]: I'm here...

_[Msg from Redneck Baker]: Pull around back, come n the back door._

[Msg to Redneck Baker]: Was that a pun or instructions on how u want me to fuck u?

_[Msg from Redneck Baker]: y cant it b both?_

He had him there. Rick drove around to the back and parked next to Daryl's bike. The back door was wedged open when he walked up. "Daryl?" he hollered as he pulled it open and stepped inside.

"Make sure that shuts all the way," the baker yelled back from somewhere further inside. 

Rick pulled out the little wooden block that held the door open and dropped it to the side. He pulled it shut and gave it a good push just to be sure. Then, he slowly made his way into the bakery. 

When he turned the corner into the prep area, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the most delicious sight his eyes had ever seen.

Standing before him was his Redneck Baker in nothing but a bright white apron and a chef's hat with a stainless steel mixing bowl held tight against his chest and a finger coated in chocolate batter slowly making its way up to his mouth to be licked clean.

And the only thing Officer Hottie could do was stare with his jaw firmly on the floor and drool dribbling down his chin.


	3. Caramel Brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl move on to brownies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

Daryl didn't say a word as Rick stared at him like a braindead possum, he only smiled to himself knowing he had the man exactly where he wanted him. After a minute or so, he quirked a brow and the movement was just enough to jostle Rick from the spellbinding stupor he found himself in.

"H, ahem, hey," Rick roughly spit out.

"Started without ya," Daryl replied as he sat the bowl down on the table. "Jus' put some stuff in there and mixed it up. Simple...did ya want a taste?"

Rick could only nod as he moved towards him, stripping his black t-shirt off on his way and toeing off his boots. All he wanted to do was grab Daryl and fuck him right then, but he was always good at foreplay. And GOD yes, he wanted a taste!

Daryl stuck his finger back in the bowl and pulled it out covered in brownie batter, the viscous mixture oozing down towards his knuckle. Rick wrapped both his hands around Daryl's and stuck out his tongue. Starting at where the batter had run down his finger, he licked his way to the tip before sucking the chocolaty digit into his mouth. 

When he pulled Daryl's finger away, it was replaced with the baker's lips. He could taste the cocoa on Daryl's tongue as it skillfully tangoed with his. Rick didn't care much for chocolate, but tonight, it was his favorite thing in the whole damn universe. And he knew for sure that he'd never tasted better. 

"Mmmm, not bad," Rick said when they broke the kiss. "Got an apron for me or were ya hopin' I'd get dirty?" he teased, unfastening his belt. 

"This is the only one," Daryl lied, he wanted him naked. "Ya want mine?" he asked, unbuttoning Rick's jeans and slowly lowering the zipper.

"Fuck no! In fact, I don't ever wanna see ya in anything else!" 

"Might get a whole lot more customers that way...."

"Think it's best we keep this between us then," Rick jealously hissed. 

And that had Daryl's need to be possessed skyrocketing as the primeval instinct to claim spilled out from icy blue eyes that were leering at his near naked form. When his face went flush, he knew better than to believe it was from the preheating oven.

Rick wiggled out of his jeans and kicked them off to the side, having the forethought to go commando. He spun Daryl around and pinned him against the table so he could kiss him hard, his hands traveling behind him to run over the baker's bare ass. 

The apron was the only thing separating them, but Rick could feel every hot, throbbing inch of Daryl's cock through the fabric, and it sent his mouth watering more than it already was.

"What's the next step?" Rick asked, pulling away before he came undone from just the pressure of Daryl's body against his. "This is a lesson, is it not?" he continued, raising a brow and feigning suspicion. 

It was apparent that he was having a similar effect on the baker because Daryl had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer. "Pans," he gruffly muttered, reaching for a metal pan on the table. "You're the student," he said, motioning to the bowl they'd just been eating out of. 

"How many health codes are we brakin'?" Rick chuckled as he picked up the bowl and poured the brownie batter in.

"Hopefully all of 'em," Daryl smirked. He grabbed a spatula and scrapped the sides of the bowl as Rick held it up. While Daryl was concentrating on the task, Rick was checking out his ass.

At Michonne's, they were both a little drunk and the lights were low. This was the first time he got a good look at Daryl's naked body, his eyes transfixed on his plump, firm buns. And heaven help him, he wanted to eat those too! Even so, he didn't miss the scars.

Daryl put the spatula down and took the pan to the oven. He stuck the brownies in and set a timer only to turn around to gorgeous baby blues eyeing him hungrily. All he could to was stand there and take it all in, the heat from the oven not nearly as hot as the heat coming from those eyes.

"What else can I eat off of ya?" Rick asked.

"Ya do look like ya could use a few more sweets," Daryl countered, looking him up and down. 

"I guess it's a good thing I'm on good terms with the local baker," he drawled. "I hear his cupcakes'll change your life."

Daryl hid the blushing smile on his face by turning towards the pots and grabbing one from the rack. "Will they now?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I can personally attest ta the validity of that statement. And ya know ya can trust me 'cause I'm a cop."

Daryl chuckled as he walked to the stove with the pot. "Bring me the sugar," he instructed, "It's behind ya."

Rick spun around, giving Daryl the perfect view of his ass as he leaned over the table to grab the container of sugar. His mouth went dry like it was stuffed full of cotton, and he really wished he could figure out what he wanted more: to fuck him or to be fucked by him. _Why not both?_

Rick sat the sugar down next to the stove where Daryl had already laid out some butter and heavy cream. "What are we makin'?"

"Caramel drizzle for the brownies," he replied pouring a scoopful of sugar in the heated pan. "Gotta be careful here 'cause sugar burns hurt like a mother fucker. Might wanna stay behind me."

"I can do that," Rick happily said as he pressed himself against Daryl's back; the only thing between them now were the dangling strings of the apron. His hands slipped underneath the front and began mapping out Daryl's chest. He tweaked a nipple as he sucked a love bite onto his neck, the baker releasing a moan as he bucked his hips back.

"Behave now, this is delicate shit," Daryl warned, reaching a hand back to swat Rick playfully on the ass. The cop chuckled and rested his chin on his shoulder to watch intently as the sugar slowly dissolved. It came to a boil and began to thicken and brown. Daryl tossed in the butter and melted it in before stirring in the heavy cream.

He pulled the pan off when it was done and poured its contents into a small jar to cool. From there, they proceeded to get lost in the sweet heat of each other's mouths, hands roaming freely, until the timer for the brownies forced them to part. The baker grabbed a set of camo oven mitts to pull out the piping hot treats and carefully carried them to the table.

"Care to do the honors, Officer?" Daryl asked, holding up the caramel sauce.

Rick took the jar and drizzled a generous amount on the brownies but made sure to leave some in the jar because some of that was going on Daryl before the night was over. He sat the jar down and watched as the baker cut the brownies into even squares. 

Daryl fished out a corner piece, the hot dessert burning his hands, but he'd had worse, and held it up for Rick to bite into. His white teeth slowly disappeared into dark brown confection, but his eyes were gazing into his. He let out a perfect low hum of approval, and Daryl didn't know how much more he could take before he started begging for Rick to sink his teeth into him instead.

He took a bite after Rick, and they alternated until the brownie had been devoured. "That was delicious, Daryl. How long have ya been doin' this?" Rick asked.

"Since I can remember. When things were really bad at home, I'd run to my Gran's house. She lived around the block from us and she'd always have somethin' bakin'. Just kinda picked it up. A lot of my recipes were hers, things she taught me.

"Come ta find out, I was good at it, I liked doin' it, so it made sense to try and make a livin' at it. Got lucky with some friends who were willing to invest in me, in this place, Maggie and Carol mostly, and I've been here ever since."

"Seems like a good place to be," Rick said, moving just close enough for them to feel the heat coming off the other, which was stifling.

"Tonight, wouldn't wanna be anywhere else."

Rick slowly closed the remaining distance between them and cupped his hands around Daryl's neck. He brought their lips together in a chaste kiss that felt anything but. One hand ran up to card through his hair, the hat finally falling to the floor, as the other pulled the strings on the apron, their bodies the only thing holding it in place. 

Daryl pulled away just enough to reach in between them to toss the offending garment on the table as he deepened the kiss. Then, they were pressed together, thighs to chests; the only thing between their souls were their skin and even that was slowly burning away. 

Rick maneuvered them around until Daryl's ass was pressed into the cold metal of the table. The baker gasped into his mouth when his heated skin came to rest upon it. They gasped together when Rick rolled his hips just right to align their hardened lengths sending a perfect burst of fire coursing through them both.

His lips fell down Daryl's neck to taste his saltysweet skin, his tongue flickering out randomly to soak up the enticing flavor of the baker before dancing over a very pronounced collarbone. 

On his way back up, he bit into the flesh above his jugular that had Daryl hissing out a shuddered breath, his nails digging into Rick's back in a pleasurepain of retaliation. He kissed his apologies on the spot before ending his journey where he started, on supple lips carved of sugar. 

"Think we should burn off some of these calories," Rick suggested, voice already rough in the back of his throat like he'd been screaming Daryl's name all night long. The baker kissed him softly and flashed him a cheeky smile before turning around. "This your fee?" Rick growled low in his ear.

"Nah, first lesson's on the house," Daryl replied. 

"Did Mr. Asshole Dixon give these to ya?" Rick asked, running his hands along the scars on Daryl's back.

"Mhmm," he grunted.

"Hand me the caramel syrup," he instructed as he reached for a small pastry brush on the table.

"Why?" the baker asked as he tried to turn around. 

Rick wasn't having that. He pinned him against the table with his hips. "I'm gonna give these scars of yours some new memories."

Daryl scoffed but reluctantly handed him the warm jar of sauce. 

Rick dipped the brush in the syrup and pressed the tip to a scar on Daryl's shoulder. He drew it along his skin to coat the damaged tissue in caramel. Daryl shivered under his touch and Rick watched goosebumps raise on his skin. When the first scar was covered, he redipped the brush and repeated the motion on the scar beside it. 

The third one was between Daryl's shoulder blades. He stroked the brush over his canvas and smiled big when his Redneck Baker giggled, actually giggled. "Ticklish?" Rick teased.

"No!"

"Uh huh," he chuckled. 

"Fuck you!"

"We'll get there," Rick assured him.

When all the scars on his back were covered in light brown syrup, Rick put the jar and brush back on the table. Starting with the first, Rick ran his tongue over the strip of skin he painted, the flat of his warm, wet tongue gliding easily along the trail of smooth caramel. 

Daryl's head fell forward, his breathing deepening with every swipe of Rick's tongue. Every nerve ending in his body was thrumming with electricity that intensified every time Rick moved on to the next scar, exposing him like a live wire as velvet lips danced across his skin.

After he was licked clean, Rick picked up the brush again. "Bend over," he whispered. Daryl complied, his brain in no state to argue. His elbows propped him up to keep his chest off the cold metal as Rick dropped to his knees and put the caramel on the floor beside him. He coated the brush in the creamy sauce and placed a big dollop at the base of Daryl's spin. 

Rick painted a line down the split of his ass, Daryl's breath hitching as the bristles ghosted over his entrance. He dropped the brush back in the jar and spread Daryl's cheeks with his hands. His mouth watered at the view before he dove in. He ran his tongue up the sugary path and repeated the motion to capture any of the caramel he may have missed.

Daryl's mind went completely blank as his thoughts gave way to a blur of static from sensory overload. Never had he felt so fucking blissed out in all his life, and he knew that if he lived a thousand years he'd never feel it again. He couldn't remember his own name, and even if he wanted to speak Rick's, the simple syllables would've come out a garbled mess.

Reaching blindly for the brush, Rick used one hand to expose his pucker as the other delicately drew a pinwheel of gooey goodness outward from the center. He dropped the brush back into the jar and traced the pattern backwards until his tongue was gently pressing passed the ring of muscle of Daryl's tight hole.

Daryl whimpered in pleasure as his head snapped back. Rick pressed in further as one hand slithered around to stroke the baker's cock, but that was just too damn much! He swatted the cop's hand away and scrambled for the pockets of the apron where he had stashed lube and condoms.

"Here," he gruffly mumbled, handing the items to Rick, "Hurry the fuck up! I need you in my yesterday!" He was fucking desperate alright and well aware that he was a whining, withering chunk of melting chocolate in Rick's hand, primed to drip through his fingers any second if it hadn't been for the small reprieve he had just bought himself.

Rick hastily tore into the condom wrapper, and of course the damn thing was strawberry flavored. He was surprised he remembered how to put one on, but he managed and went about stretching the baker open with slicked up fingers. He wanted to take his time with that too, but he knew Daryl was too far gone for that now, and he was following close behind. 

He was beginning to wonder if there had been little blue pills baked into the brownies because he never remember a time he had been so hard for so long without paying some kind of attention to his dick, not even as a hormone-riddled teen who spent both his every waking and every sleeping hour at half mast.

He knew he wasn't alone in that because Daryl kept grunting impatiently over his shoulder as he pumped his fingers in and out of him. But there was just something delectably divine about drawing it out, about the way Daryl's molten insides resisted him as he poked and prodded at his inner walls until they succumbed to his will. 

Until they reached the point in which that wasn't enough.

He stood up, knees numb from the hard floor, and kissed Daryl's shoulder. "Tell me what you're cravin'," Rick drawled and Daryl was _this_ close to punching him in his gorgeous fucking face then tackling the bastard so he could ride him into the ground if he didn't hurry the fuck up!

"Your cock, goddammit! Now, fuck me!" Daryl ordered.

That voice was too wrecked to ignore. Rick lined up behind him and plunged forward, his cock sinking into the blazing heat that was Daryl as his body conformed to him, the baker rasping out a whimpering, incoherent jumble of curses and broken syllables as Rick pulled back before rocketing his hips forward again.

He set an easy pace after that, an arm wrapping around Daryl's chest as the other hand fell to his hip. Any faster and they would've finished before they had really gotten started, and he just couldn't let that happen because Rick wanted this to last forever. Every thrust pulled a new sound from the baker's lips and he wanted to sample all of them.

Except this was no good.

He pulled out to the frustrated Redneck Baker's growls of protest that were silenced when Rick spun him around and kissed him hard. He grabbed his thighs and situated him on the table. And fuck if it wasn't designed for that precise purpose as they lined up perfectly. 

Daryl hooked his legs around Rick's and grabbed him by the hair to smash their lips together, his tongue forcing its way into the cop's mouth as Rick pounded into him so hard the whole table was shaking, everything on it rattling around like the Earth was quaking beneath them. Or maybe it was. 

Rick's hands fell down his back to dig into his hips and the slight angle change had Daryl searching for purchase on the table. His right found nothing but metal, but the left landed right in the now cold brownies, the chocolate treat crumbling between his fingers as he squeezed. 

"Daryl...fuck," Rick gasped. 

And didn't his name sounded fantastic like that! In Daryl's haste to get his hands back on the man, the pan of brownies was sent flying off the table and crashing to the ground, Rick's back getting the same treatment as the floor as Daryl's sticky hand made a mess of it. 

"Shit!" he chuckled. Rick joined him, slowing but not stilling his hips until Daryl held up his caramel brownie coated hand in between them. They each sucked a finger clean before Rick redoubled his effort. 

Daryl threw his arms over Rick's shoulders as his thrusts became more and more chaotic, their heavy breathing and wild moans of passion urging them onward. Rick started stroking his cock, his lips seeking out Daryl's, but they were both too out of breath for kissing.

"Rick, Imma—" Daryl panted, but he cut it off with a growl when Rick stopped to grab his ass and lift him off the table. They sunk to the floor, Daryl swatting away the hard pan as Rick laid him on the mess of broken brownie bits and spilled caramel from the jar that had been inadvertently kicked over at some point.

Rick hooked his arm under one of Daryl's knees raising his hips as he began to hammer into him fervently. His hand made its way back to the baker's stiff cock to guide him along, not that he needed help with the way Rick was hitting his prostate on every descent of his hips. Daryl pulled him down in a scolding kiss that had both of their toes curling as the building pressure they'd been cooking all evening reached critical mass.

"Dar...fuck! Daryl!" Rick cried out when he came, his hand pulling Daryl right off the ledge with him, adding one final ingredient to the sticky amalgamation of sinful confectionary delights they had already created. And Rick had a fleeting thought of how Daryl's brownies had also ruined him for life in the best way imaginable.

Rick rested his forehead against Daryl's as he attempted to slow his breathing before his lungs exploded. "Kinda made a mess of your bakery," he chuckled breathlessly.

"Its seen worse. Maggie can't bake worth shit," Daryl explained, running sticky fingers up Rick's spine. "We should prolly jump in the shower before we clean up."

"Who's house is closer?" Rick asked, rolling off and out of him. He stripped off the condom and tossed it in the nearby trash can. "And, uh, ya got more of those?" He quirked a curious eyebrow as Daryl grinned darkly at him.

"Hell yeah, plenty more! And pretty sure mine's closer."

"Where do ya live? Will, uh, Merle be there?"

"Nah, he's out drinking...and real close," he answered. Rick reached for his clothes but Daryl shook his head as he pointed upward, "Live upstairs."

"Then why the hell where ya speeding by at four in the morning?" Rick asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Shane said he wanted ta break in the new guy. Took care of a ticket Merle got on my bike. Pretty sure I got the better end of the deal," he winked. "This mornin' I was already up and just wanted to see ya, but I'm thinkin' Merle wasn't as drunk as I first thought when he woke me."

"Those crafty sons o' bitches!" 

"Come on, shower, then clean up, then I'm fuckin' ya," Daryl said sitting up, his back a battlefield littered with the remnants of fallen brownies lost before their time.

"What'd he tell you about me?" Rick blushed, attempting to brush off Daryl's back and being only mildly successful as he smeared the chocolate and caramel around like finger paint. 

"Not a damn thing! Didn't realize it was a setup till after ya ran outta here. Thought I screwed it up."

"Oh we ain't done screwin' yet," Rick corrected.

"How 'bout next time we play cops and robbers?" Daryl smirked, getting to his feet and pulling Rick up after. 

"Only if ya promise to tie me up," Rick replied before planting another kiss on his sugary lips.

"Think we might be able to work somethin' out...Officer Hottie," teased the Redneck Baker.


End file.
